


Falling For You

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-07 00:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The night after the apocalypse didn't happen, a demon and an angel go home togetherOr: A there was only one bed fic featuring Crowley's weird sleeping habits





	Falling For You

The ride home from the near end of the world was a quiet affair. Exhaustion settled heavily over both the angel and the demon as the events of the day caught up to them. Under any other circumstances, Crowley would be ecstatic at the privilege of finally being able to sit next to his best friend without worrying who saw them. Hell, he’d even be thrilled to acknowledge that they were friends at all. But after all that had happened, the demon’s mind was far too preoccupied processing all of the mourning and loss that he had suffered in the past 24 hours. The bentley, the bookshop, but most importantly...Crowley stole a glance at Aziraphale, who looked as close to nodding off as he had ever seen him. Now that he wasn’t busy averting the apocalypse, it was hard not to dwell on those wretched few hours where he’d thought his angel was gone for good. Those hours where he’d given up on his continued existence. Crowley realized a long time ago that he would do anything for Aziraphale, but now he had to come to terms with what it meant that he couldn’t do anything without him. He had a feeling that would dredge up some emotions he’d been carefully repressing for six millenia. 

As the bus came to a stop in front of Crowley’s flat, he was suddenly hit with the realization that Aziraphale had never been here before. Crowley had always been the one to seek him out at the bookshop. That was just how The Arrangement worked. He was so overcome by nerves that he hardly noticed the polite exchange between Aziraphale and their very confused bus driver. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d gotten off the bus until Aziraphale turned to him expectantly, waiting for him to lead them inside. 

“Right,” Crowley muttered awkwardly, pulling the front door open and gesturing for the angel to step inside. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to shake any of his anxiety by the time they reached the door to his flat. It was all he could do to lead the angel inside and stand awkwardly to the side as Aziraphale took in his surroundings. 

His flat was the exact opposite of the bookshop, cold and unwelcoming. Even Crowley avoided it when he could. He knew what Aziraphale must think of it. Still, he didn’t voice his opinion. Politely telling him “It’s lovely,” instead. Crowley’s eyes rolled behind his glasses. 

“It’s not,” he said flatly. “Come on, this way.” Crowley took off down the hall, not waiting to see if Aziraphale followed. 

“Where are we going, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley pushed the door to his bedroom open in response, stepping aside so that he could look inside. 

“Bed,” was his terse answer when the angel still looked confused. “I know you don’t usually do that sort of thing, but today was a fucking nightmare and I saw you nodding off on the bus. We both need some sleep.”

Crowley started digging through his drawers in search of pajamas for Aziraphale so that he could avoid his gaze. A soft sort of look always crossed his face when Crowley was particularly considerate towards him. Crowley knew he’d lose what little control he had over his emotions right now if he saw it. 

“I think you may have a point,” Aziraphale agreed. Judging from his pleased tone, Crowley had dodged a bullet. 

“Here,” Crowley said, handing Aziraphale a stack of clothes. “You can take the bed, I can sleep pretty much anywhere.”

“Nonsense Crowley. I don’t want to drive you out of your own bed. Especially not after today.” That pout was usually lethal to Crowley, but he held firm. 

“It’s fine, angel. Really. I don’t sleep there half the time anyways. The couch suits me just fine.” Aziraphale studied his face, looking for any sign of a lie. When he decided that he wouldn’t find one he nodded in satisfaction. 

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“Completely,” Crowley said. With that settled, he snagged a spare pillow and blanket off of his bed before taking off back down the hallway. He paused just long enough to throw a “Goodnight, angel,” over his shoulder and continued on without waiting for a response. He certainly didn’t see how Aziraphale stared after him as he left.

Crowley dropped himself unceremoniously onto the couch. After today he felt that he could sleep for at least another century. Someone would certainly try to kill him before that happened, but it was a nice thought. With a snap of his fingers, he was in his silky black pajamas with a blanket draped over him and his glasses folded neatly on his coffee table. It was all he could be bothered to do before settling in. But despite his exhaustion, Crowley could not force himself to fall asleep. Insomnia really did hit him at the worst of times. Instead of the sweet release of unconsciousness, his brain decided that it would be a better use of his time to replay the events of the past day. Unbidden, thoughts of arguments and loneliness and _burning_ flooded his mind, keeping him from sleep. He remembered screaming Aziraphale’s name in the smouldering remains of the only place that had ever truly felt like his home. He remembers pleading with Her to bring him back. If She ever cared for him at all, please bring him back. But most of all, he remembers how suddenly, the end couldn't come fast enough. Everything he had fought for the past eleven years no longer mattered without his angel by his side. Nothing did. 

Crowley could feel his breath quickening and his eyes start to burn as his thoughts spiralled. The memory of that loneliness was getting to be too much to bear. Aziraphale being in the other room wasn’t good enough. Crowley needed to see him. To make sure that he was ok. Throwing the blanket aside, he made his way back towards his room, only remembering to try to be quiet a few feet from the door. Aziraphale had left the door cracked open enough for him to see that he was sleeping like, well, an angel. He was here, and perfectly alright, and really that should have been enough for Crowley. Somehow it still wasn’t. He pushed the door open further, creeping inside until he reached the edge of the bed. From here he could make out every perfect detail of the angel sleeping in his bed. His white blonde hair framing his head like a halo where it was fanned out around him. His face was nestled snugly against the pillow, peaceful in a way Crowley had never seen before. An unhelpful part of his brain noted that he would like to see it again. That he would like to never stop seeing it. He tried his best to ignore the thought. 

He should leave. He’s checked on Aziraphale and he’s fine so now there’s no reason for him to stay. But right now the thought of returning to the couch alone fills him with dread. Instead of leaving he summons his pillow and blanket into his arms, settling on the floor beside the bed. If he tells himself that it’s for safety reasons, that he can better protect Aziraphale from any angels or demons that might come after them if he stays by his side, he could almost believe it. Content with his flimsy excuse, Crowley settles into his makeshift bed and finally lets himself drift off to sleep. 

To say that Crowley was a restless sleeper was an understatement. It wasn’t just the insomnia. The demon often awoke to find himself nowhere near the place where he’d fallen asleep. He had long since stopped being surprised by the strange places he’d find himself in the morning. The problem was that he’d never had to consider how others might react to his strange sleeping habits. He certainly hadn’t before he fell asleep last night. That was probably a mistake, he realized, when he was awoken by a loud “Fuck!” being shouted from below him. 

He startled badly at the sound, enough to plummet from where he had been sleeping peacefully on the ceiling down onto the bed below. He felt his elbow connect with something soft as he landed. The grunt of pain beside him confirmed that it had been Aziraphale’s stomach. Crowley just laid flat on his back for a moment, trying to get his sluggish thoughts to catch up with what had just happened. He turned to his side and found an extremely displeased angel staring back at him, holding his stomach where Crowley had landed on it.

“Crowley, what on earth were you doing on the ceiling? If you didn’t want to sleep on the couch you could have just said so.”

“...Did you just say fuck?” 

“Crowley!” 

“Right, sorry. Give me a minute…” Crowley muttered. The night before came back to him in pieces. It slowly occurred to him that he absolutely couldn’t give Aziraphale the real reason. 

“I...came back in here to grab something…” he began. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. 

“And then you just fell asleep on the ceiling?”

“No I, um--I was in here and the couch just seemed so far away. So I decided to just sleep on the floor instead. Not quite sure how I ended up on the ceiling to be completely honest,” he said, carefully avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. Especially without his glasses he didn’t want to risk giving too much away. The way the angel narrowed his eyes at him said it didn’t do him much good. 

“And what exactly did you come in here to get?” Aziraphale asked.

“Erm, what?”

“You said you came in here to get something. What was it?”

“Oh. Right. It was, um…” Aziraphale somehow looked even more cross as he hesitated. 

“Why are you lying to me Crowley?” he asked. Crowley turned so that he was facing away from Aziraphale before mumbling his answer. 

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked, sitting up so that he could see Crowley’s face again. 

“I needed to know that you were alright, ok? I almost lost you and I just...it was stupid. Just forget about it, angel.” Aziraphale’s gaze softened as he looked down at Crowley, who was now doing his best to either hide his face or smother himself with one of the pillows. It was anyone’s guess which one really. 

“Crowley, look at me. Please,” Aziraphale requested gently. Crowley hesitated but he could never deny his angel anything. When the demon turned to face him, Aziraphale laid back down beside him, taking one of his hands in his own once they were both settled. Crowley eyed their joined hands suspiciously. 

“My dear boy, I’m sorry that I scared you yesterday,” he said. “Had it been me losing you, I can’t even imagine what I would have done. But I want you to know that I won’t leave your side again. I’ll do everything in my considerable power to make sure of that.”

“They’re going to come after us again,” Crowley pointed out. 

“They don’t scare me. Not anymore. As long as we’re together I think we make a pretty formidable team. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed half-heartedly. 

“Crowley, I didn’t spend six millenia waiting for the day we didn’t have to fear having a relationship with each other only to have it taken away. We’re going to get through this, and we’re going to spend the rest of our time together not giving a damn about what heaven or hell thinks ever again. Ok?”

“...When you say relationship…” Crowley begins to ask. Aziraphale just sighs deeply, brushing a gentle hand over Crowley’s cheek. When his eyes flutter contentedly Aziraphale pulls him closer, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. When he pulls away Crowley’s lips chase his. He keeps their foreheads pressed together, the hand that was resting on Crowley’s cheek now moving to run through his hair. 

“Ok?” he asks again. Crowley nods, speechless for a moment, before responding.

“Ok,” he says, feeling as though he’s agreeing to much more than the original question. 

“Good. Now if that’s all settled, I’d quite like a few more hours of sleep. I don’t indulge in it often and we had an incredibly long day yesterday,” Aziraphale says as he settles back into the bed. Crowley nods his agreement, still looking lost in thought. Aziraphale decides to leave him to his thoughts and sleep, which he manages to do for nearly a whole minute before he opens his eyes to see the demons expression hasn't changed. 

“Everything alright?” Aziraphale asks. The question is enough to quiet Crowley’s mind, racing to catch up with everything that’s just been said (and he thought _he_ went too fast). Instead he focuses his attention on the angel, _his_ angel. And for the first time, he lets himself feel every ounce of love he holds for him without trying to suppress it. A stupid smile breaks out across his face, mimicked almost immediately by Aziraphale. 

“I can’t believe I scared you so bad you said fuck,” Crowley said, cackling as the smile dropped from Aziraphale’s face with a roll of his eyes. He was so busy laughing he didn’t notice the pillow Aziraphale swung at his head until it was too late. 

“Go back to sleep would you? Try not to end up on the ceiling again,” he muttered as he buried his face into his pillow. Crowley was still quietly chuckling but managed to get himself back under control while the angel gave him the cold shoulder. 

“Aziraphale,” he said. No response. 

“Aziraphale.”

“What?” Aziraphale’s irritated look was met with a soft smile from Crowley. One that was usually reserved for late nights in the privacy of the bookshop. Aziraphale softened at the sight of it. 

Wordlessly Crowley moved closer to him, tugging his arm free from hugging the pillow and draping it across his waist instead. Aziraphale caught on quickly, pulling him closer until Crowley’s head was securely tucked under his chin. A deep sigh of contentment fanned out across his chest. Aziraphale kissed his head in agreement. 

“Love you, angel,” Crowley mumbled. 

“I love you too, dear. More than I could possibly say.” 

There would be time later for deciphering prophecies and defying the forces of heaven and hell. But those things could wait. This moment in each other’s arms was infinitely more important.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write Crowley sleeping on the ceiling like a weirdo but it got emotional


End file.
